Singapore

that god never blessed her insides.

(thank you, , for this song ♥)

And sometimes when you’re on
You’re really fucking on
And your friends they sing along
And they love you
But the lows are so extreme
That the good seems fucking cheap
And it teases you for weeks in its absence
But you’ll fight and you’ll make it through
You’ll fake it if you have to
And you’ll show up for work with a smile
You’ll be better
And you’ll be smarter
And More grown up and a better daughter or son
And a real good friend
And you’ll be awake
You’ll be alert
You’ll be positive though it hurts
And you’ll laugh and embrace all your friends
And you’ll be a real good listener
You’ll be honest
You’ll be brave
You’ll be handsome and you’ll be beautiful
You’ll be happy

Your ship may be comin in
You’re weak but not giving in
To the cries and the wails of the valley below

Today started out miserable, the rain blacking the sky until the new morning looked more like last night, and I was sleepy and reluctant to get out of bed, but it got better, somehow; I found words in me to offer people, and they took them, and gave their own in kind, and I smiled at people and they smiled back, and I found, before philosophy class today, a translation of Homer’s Iliad that looked really engaging and accessible. Lunch was satisfactory, I am instinctively, necessarily, tempted to shy away from the promise, the weight of intimacy for fear of stepping wrong, so it’s two steps forward, one step back, but that’s still progress, is it not.

I posted about Project Week, with full-colour photos and commentary and the requisite (over)analysis, etc., but it’s locked because of the details in them. If you want to see it and don’t have an LJ account, let me know (:

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